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#feel free to interpret a different way

canisalbus · 5 months

Note

I just recently started following you so i don't have the full lore of your murderous gay religiously traumatized doggos, BUT, from my understanding, they are Italian and i don't know what part of Italy they are from, yet i can't help headcanoning Vasco as Tuscan, while Machete is probably from some part of Veneto. And as an Italian who has heard Tuscans and Veneto dialet, well it's an hilarious mental image.

Vasco is indeed Tuscan, Florentine to be specific. He comes from a wealthy and influential noble family that has lived in Florence for centuries. He's proud of his roots, and it's usually easy for strangers to tell where he's from. He's a resonably successful politician and has worked as an ambassador and representative of Florence on numerous occasions.

Machete is originally Sicilian (ironically about as far from Veneto as possible), although he was taken to mainland at young age and has lived in several places since then, before ending up in Rome. The way I see it, he exhibits very little local color, his demeanor and (even though Italian hadn't become a standardized language yet) way of speaking are formal, neutral and scarcely give away any hints about his personal history, at least in the 16th century canon.

#I tend to take the easy way out with the various Italian dialects/languages and temper their effect on how the dog world works #even though to my understanding in reality they differ drastically from each other even today and they aren't always mutually intelligible #especially when you compare northern and southern ones #I know at least Sicilian is so different from modern day Italian it's considered a separate language entirely #it isn't the only one but I'm not a linguist and not even Italian so I'm not really qualified to be explaining any of this to you #main point is that my dogs are well traveled educated and adaptable so I'd like to believe that they manage #otherwise making this whole scenario work would become very complicated #language barriers aplenty #Machete is a fast learner with a natural knack for languages so he absorbs/decodes new ones easily #and I can see him acting as an interpreter if necessary #which is a valuable trait for someone working as the secretary of state I'd imagine #a lot of people he ends up dealing with speak at least passable Latin so at a pinch they might perhaps try switching to that?#Vasco might have a Tuscan flavor but Machete is more of a blank slate (at least in public and at work)#answered #fallenoftheromaempire #feel free to correct me if I've gotten something wrong I'm not an expert and this stuff is complicated for an outsider

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raayllum · 9 months

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Listen after the constant goalpost moving / claims of the past few years that

Callum would never Ever do dark magic again under any circumstances (can't relate) because

claims of him valuing duty/goodness/morality above all else because he'd never ever be like Claudia and Viren (ignoring the fact that he already was)

and that he obviously didn't do it mostly to save Rayla and did it for the dragon ("I had to, to save my friends" thank you 5x08)

until his TOX bio came out and literally spelled it out otherwise ("I value those close to me more than anyone or anything [...] I am beholden to my inner circle not some silly kingdom")

and then backpedaling to "oh well he'd only do something Big and Dangerous like that for Ezran" (but adamant that it wouldn't be for Rayla, for Some Reason??)

to just complete silence on 1) said goalpost moving and 2) the fact they've had to consistently backpedal if not outright be wrong characterization wise

like I think I'm allowed to do a couple of petty memes on behalf of the "we like that Callum is kinda fucked up and would do outright terrible things / things he considers terrible for his loved ones because his core is that he loves Ezran and Rayla above anything and everything else" crowd that's stayed consistent for a long time and is now validated as fuck

#to be clear there is nothing NOTHING wrong with canon going a different way than you expect characterization wise #snake boi callum #rayllum fandom #fandom history #memes #mine #dragons gets salty #ever so slightly #anyway callum stans feel free to use these memes we've been eating so good #cause i think personality wise rayla is the fave but thematically? callum is chef's kiss #once again this is the pettiest i think i'll ever be #lord do not make me regret this post #like we're all always entitled to our interpretations. but people got Hella Rude about mine #also i've gotten so much stuff wrong i don't know why people get so strung up on Having to be Right and #shoving shit into that dichotomy. esp when it comes to theorizing

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themakeupbrush · 2 years

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Miss World Philippines 2022 National Costume Contest, with costumes inspired by Santacruzan, a parade held on the last day of Flores de Mayo festival, which includes personifications of religious and historical figures

#miss world #national costume contest #please feel free to add/correct any information #it seems like a lot of them chose the same queens to portray #either way it's cool how they all had different interpretations.

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ridl · 5 months

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So like with ganqing

Who fell first and who fell harder?

Hmm, not sure if i have a truly definite answer. It could go either ways - Keqing realizes her feelings first because she's analytical, she quickly notices all the changes in herself in regards to Ganyu. And Ganyu is more of the quiet type, who also doesn't think abt doing things for herself. Being like 3000+ could also mean she's fine with living alone, she doesn't necessarily need romance. Maybe even neither of them need it. But eventually she realizes that maybe she can take a chance at some new happiness, at sharing a life with someone. So once it hits her how much she cares about Keqing, it kinda just hits very strongly all at once. It becomes a strong want that she's finally willing to follow, despite her withdrawn nature. - Ganyu realizes her feelings first because her experiences with Keqing taught her to be bolder, to live more for herself and pursue her own wants and happiness. On the other hand, Keqing is focused on her dream of building the new era of Liyue, she's straightforward but cares about boundaries, so maybe she's not aware just yet of what she's actually feeling for Ganyu, who's fully supporting Keqing in that goal. And once she realizes those feelings, it hits her all at once like "oh. i'm in love with her. of course!", and she basically immediately wants to act upon it, because that's just how she is.

#ganqing #ask #keqing #ganyu #perhaps keqing first ganyu harder is more likely considering their personalities and i might like it a little more?#but the other option seems interesting too. as long as keqing isn't treated as a dense idiot for no reason bc that's not the point.#and i'm sure there's other possible slightly different interpretations of this that i could end up rlly liking hhhh #i may be just not as big brainded for this #and this doesn't even touch on who actually confesses first after all that. which could go either ways too! many possibilities lol #ty for asking anon :)#btw feel free to send me more asks abt ganqing

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hyacinthsdiamonds · 5 months

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F1 teams as districts:

District 1, luxury items; The first half of the career pack, for me, has to be Ferrari. The privilege and prestige District 1 is implied to have in the books (in comparison to the other districts) and the undeniable privilege and prestige Ferrari has in F1, it just makes sense to me.

District 2 is masonry and defense, I am leaning towards mercedes here, purely because narratively it makes sense to put them as the second half of the career pack. I did debate putting in mclaren but in recent years only, there was no contest.

District 3 is general electronics, this one caused a lot of back and forth for me but in the end I went with Williams. The brilliance of the way Beetee used his intelligence to win and the brilliance of the cars Newey produced for Williams in the early ninties, it just made sense for me.

District 4, fishing; now maybe a controversial take, but for me, District 4 is Red Bull. Hear me out: while considered a career district, District 4 is implied to be for conditional career District. Depending on circumstances, District 4 tributes might not ally with the traditional career pack. Its implied the tributes capabilities and age, the type of arena they're thrust into, etc affect whether or not they'll make the line up. In the books, the girl from 4 is a career tribute but the boy, the youngest tribute alongside Rue, is not and is killed pretty quick. Annie Cresta only won her games due to her ability to swim, which implies that she wasn't hunting down her fellow tributes with the careers. We know she was traumatised by the death of her District partner which also implies that he was her only ally in her games. Now Finnick, Finnick is the exception. He's one of the youngest Victor's ever, he was 14. Primarily stayed alive at first because no one thought he was a real threat. It's kind of implied he was with the careers but that's up for debate and discussion. When he is gifted a trident by the sponsors, that's when things change. The other tributes didn't realise their mistake until it was too late. Not to mention, according to Katniss' initial thoughts of him, Finnick comes across as confident, obnoxiously arrogant and devilishly charming. It just screams red bull golden boy to me. There's a reason why 12 year old pictured seb as finnick when I first read catching fire lmao.

District 5 is power/electricity, mclaren. Mclaren was a hard one to place. I switched them and Williams around a couple of times. My justification for possibly putting Williams here? The battery logo on their car lmao. In end a similar justification as to why I put Williams in 3, put mclaren in 5. Ngl Oscar is a little foxface coded.

District 6 is transportation, we don't see much on District 6 other than the morphlings so thanks to word association with the concept of the districts role, I had to go with Alpine lmao.

District 7 is lumber, Aston Martin purely because I think Johanna Mason and Fernando would either get along like house on fire, set the world on fire or both.

District 8 is textiles, alfa romeo. Was this primarily because of Zhou's impeccable fashion sense? And what about it? And I can't deny Bottas gives me District 8 vibes based on the character's from that District. That being said they were almost District 7 because of Johanna taking her clothes off in the elevator and Bottas being Bottas on insta lmfao.

District 10 is livestock, again I have no justification other than vibes but haas. I nearly put Alpha Tauri here due to their relationship with red bull.

District 11 is agriculture, I put Alpha Tauri is the only team specifically there to develop young drivers and has been struggling due to various issues in the last few years. Very much needed (in regards to developing young drivers, 11 produces most of the food for the capitol, both are underappreciated and are harshly criticised/punished by the sky sports commentators/the capitol.

There was a 13th District that was in charge of nuclear weaponry, but prior to the start of the book, it was obliterated. (We later find out that wasn't totally accurate, but anyways, for the sake of this post, it was completely obliterated). 13, along with 2, was the main weapon developer for the capitol. 13's destruction paved the way for 2 to become more valuable for the capitol and why it became a career district. If 2 is mercedes, 13 is brawn gp.

District 9 (grain) & 12 (coal mining) I've had to leave blank as I can't think of anything else currently but I'm sure if I look back through the f1 vaults I could find parallels between different teams and these districts.

#f1 #formula 1 #formula one #the hunger games #the crossover nobody asked for #apart from the red bull admin who i give the District 12 salute to #i read the trilogy in 2012 and was obsessed with it #red bull era seb and michael was on the grid we had nando jenson nico etc my childhood drivers life was good #Feel free to share opinions and different interpretations #this was a bit of fun I put way too much thought into but hey I enjoyed it

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ellakomskaikru · 2 years

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Do you think Mai is a cool character? Do you like her?

Hello anon!

I’m not going to lie. I’m a little nervous to answer this because Mai is such a controversial character, from what I’ve seen. Some people love her, other people hate her, and others are indifferent to her. But from what I’ve seen, she’s a character that provokes strong reactions in people. I will be truthful in my opinion of her but if anyone has any different opinions feel free to express them.

I think Mai is cool in that she can throw knives like nobody’s business. I also have sympathy for her because of how she was treated as child. Her parents were very strict with her and didn’t allow her to express her emotions. That is supposedly what caused her apathy, and I do have empathy for her.

But besides that, the only character depth that she seems to have is that she has feelings for Zuko. And we don’t even see why she cares about him so much in the first place. We knew she had a crush on him as a child, but we never actually saw them interact in the flashback. As soon as Zuko saved her from the flaming apple, he left the fountain, very annoyed. There should have been a scene in the flashback showing Mai and Zuko interacting. We needed to find out what exactly it was about Zuko that made her show her emotions.

So the writers made Mai be apathetic and aloof about everything but Zuko, and to me that made her character uninteresting. But it’s truly a shame because she had so much potential. She could have had an arc of her own where she learned that the war was wrong, much like Zuko’s own, which would cause her to show emotions because she’d see the injustice people were facing. She’d have her own arc independent from Zuko.

As she is written in canon however, she was not a good person. She wasn’t evil, but she wasn’t good either. Mai never showed remorse for anything that she did. She happily threw knives at the Gaang and helped Azula conquer Ba Sing Se because it entertained her. And that would have been fine if the writers hadn’t tried to pass her off as being good simply because she saved Zuko at the Boiling Rock. (I’ve liked many characters who are not good people, but in Mai’s case, I can’t because the writers attempted to pass her off as being good simply because she loved a redeemed character, Zuko) As I’ve said before, Mai did not have a moral awakening. She simply was not willing to let Zuko die and was daring enough to commit treason to save him.

To be honest, neither Mai or Ty Lee should have been anywhere near the Gaang after the war was over, because those two certainly enjoyed themselves on Azula’s mission, and never showed any remorse for what they did. Realistically, Team Avatar should hate Mai and Ty Lee. So basically, I just find her character to be bland, and I wish her friendship with Azula and Ty Lee had been explored more.

So anon, I would say that I am indifferent to her in canon, but I’ve enjoyed many versions of her in fanfic, where she is more fleshed out and has her own motivations that have nothing to do with Zuko. She joined Azula on her mission because she was bored and would get to see Zuko again. She was on the side of the Fire Nation because Zuko was. Then she turned against the Fire Nation because Zuko did. Then she was friends with Team Avatar at the end because they were Zuko’s friends. Do you see a pattern here? All of her most important actions were taken because of Zuko. Her character revolved around his. It was quite misogynistic writing, if you ask me.

Mai had the potential to be a strong female character, but the writers ruined that potential by making the only thing she cares about and who makes her act be a guy. It’s good that we have fanfic where her character potential can be utilized.

Thanks for the ask!

#atla #atla ask #anti mai #not really anti but just in case #I don’t really hate her but I’m just indifferent to her #she had so much potential #this is just my interpretation #if anyone interprets her in a different way feel free to explain #ella’s original post

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todayisafridaynight · 1 year

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The whole giri-ninjo part of the discussion you guys were having scratches a particular itch in my brain! I love all of it but I personally have been caught on that one line for quite a while with Mine.

I'm going to defer mostly to Tenno's interpretation since I'm not particularly studied, but I have some brain-worms about what exactly the concept of giri-ninjo means to Mine specifically.

Giri is a fun word to try and define. It's not just moral obligation, it's societal expectations and informs the kind of loyalty and friendly behavior that comes with business, duty, etc. In gift-giving, there's the obligation to return a gift with another, sending cards out for holidays, etc. It's not negative but it is again, obligation, and built a lot on either reciprocal action or simply the rules of society. Ninjo is quite literally "human feelings", so it encompasses emotions such as love and compassion that can inform giri, or even be in conflict with it. The giri-ninjo value system of what we owe to each other, reliance on one another, is inherent in the dependence bonds that Tenno mentioned.

I believe Mine says something along the lines of how he hates people (Kiryu) who live their lives only on that principle alone. This is really interesting to me, as in a way giri-ninjo seems to define exactly the type of bonds that Mine specifically sought out in the yakuza. Why would he despise it?

For one, he could think Kiryu foolish to believe that he can build his life entirely around these bonds that Mine finds to be fallible and subject to be taken away at any moment. I feel like on top of rejecting interdependence for individualism, there's also the matter of giri mixed in. Mine is quite familiar with relationships built entirely on obligation, especially in a business setting. Relationships where people are kind to one another not because they particularly care, but because it's simply something that you have to do as part of society- the kind of thing that results in the betrayal Mine felt at his former workplace.

Mine wants to care about someone and be cared about, not a concern compelled by duty or the sense that you owe each other. I suppose one could read relationships like this as not only unreliable but also as false. It's the most uncharitable interpretation of giri, but not one that I would put past Mine.

There's a lot more I could spam abt it but it's ground already covered and this is getting long anyway haha. Again don't take this like 1000% seriously I'm only really a native speaker in household conversational and had to learn the rest by aggressively pestering my family for their takes on scenes in Yakuza, and even then people have their own personal reading of things. I just wanted to send bc these thoughts have been spinning in my brain ever since I heard the line the first time.

This kind of interpretation's pretty sensible (if that's the right word anyway) honestly; it's definitely a fair and just assessment, and makes a whole lot of sense in regards to Mine, his wants, and his philosophy! I'm definitely a fan of this exploration of the subject..

#long post #fave #snap chats #aka im suckign it up in a syringe and injecting it into my brain directly #i WISH i could use my words better but just know now MY brain is going to itch about this #of course as you said the term and all else can be interpreted in different ways #but going off the idea that giri-ninjo is more out of obligation than a personal desire to help #it really does help reinforce mine's aggression towards people like kiryu #AGAINN IM BAD AT WORDS I FEEL BAD FOR NOT WRITING ENOUGH BUT JUST KNOW IM A FAN #definitely bookmarking this to rotate in my mine essay later #heh... im free from school i CAN work on that essay....#maybe some other time.... my brain is very small i need to train it first..#but thank you immensely for writing in i love the ways we're talking about mine this week #i feel like i havent been able to really discuss mine so in-depthly so it's been a lot of fun and really eye opening

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quirple · 2 years

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ok one of the things I haven’t really seen people talk about (I might just not be in the right place on here) and that I want to address is what c!Wilbur’s finale showed us about c!Tommy.

When you think about Tommy’s character as a whole, he’s always been loud but for different reasons. He started off as a boisterous young kid who was just there to have fun and hang out with his friends. Then, the stress of constant conflict began to weigh on him, and his underlying tone shifted. After exile, he was still loud, but it felt more like he was trying to cover up his internal pain than actually being genuinely excited. It was more a defense mechanism than anything, a way to overcompensate for the internal light he now lacked.

When Tommy get’s angry in Wilbur’s finale, it’s genuine. He’s finally letting out all the pain and frustration that’s built up since Pogtopia. It’s cathartic for him in a way. To me, that feels like healing. Tommy isn’t healthy or even happy by a long shot, but I think his outburst marks the beginning of him working through everything that’s happened. Maybe it’s just my desire for c!Tommy to have the happy ending that he deserves, but I like to think he’ll start expressing his emotions more and actually talk to the people he’s close with about his struggles. It’ll take time, but I think he’ll find the boy he started out as. He might not ever be the same again, but he’ll acknowledge everything he’s lost and everything he’s been through. And maybe he’ll find some semblance of peace, at least with himself, in the process.

#dream smp #dsmp #analysis #c!wilbur #c!tommy #this has been on my mind for a couple days now and I thought it might be an interesting view #also feel free to add your own thoughts and interpretations #i'm curious to see if anyone feels the same way or has a different take

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ohproserpine · 3 months

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iv. dolly

see all chapters here tags: fem! reader, reader is a performer in a speakeasy, jealousy, possessiveness, alastor does not know how to interpret love, or maybe he does, in his own twisted way, roadkill used as a symbolism, gorey descriptions of love, murder the song she sings is 'roxie' from chicago

˚୨୧₊��

"Hey!" Charlie's voice rang out as she spotted Mimzy making her way towards the hotel entrance. The blonde froze, casting a nervous glance behind her to see the demon princess rapidly approaching with a worried look that she mistook for anger.

With practiced ease, the blonde put on a fake frown, pressing her hand over her chest. "Oh, Charlie! I'm so sorry for the trouble last night, sugar! I'll pay—"

"No, no! I'm not here for that," Charlie waved her hands with a smile, seemingly oblivious to the slump of relief on Mimzy's shoulders. "Are you leaving so soon? The hotel wouldn't mind taking you in!"

Caught off guard by Charlie's unexpected offer, Mimzy grimaced. She hesitated, opening her mouth before shutting it as she struggled to find the right words. "Oh! Well…you see…"

A laughing track, sounding like it was filtered through a radio, echoed through the air, and Mimzy turned to the source to find Alastor towering over her with his signature grin.

"I don't think redemption is quite her style," Alastor's chipper voice rang out. His clawed hand reached for Mimzy’s hair, plucking a feather from her headpiece. In his hands, the pink ornament erupted into flames. "Frankly, I have my doubts she could even be redeemed at all!"

Horrified, Mimzy watched as her feather fell to the floor in ashes, her hand instinctively reaching for the charred remnants.

"Alastor," Charlie glared at him before turning her attention back to Mimzy. "We believe in redemption for everyone. It's not about what you were; it's about what you choose to be now. We'll be here to support you every step of the way."

"Thanks, sugar," Mimzy forced a smile, waving her hand around daintily. She glanced at the entrance with a subtle wish for escape, playing up the nice act while Alastor continued to watch the scene unfold with a cryptic smile. "But radio here is right. I don't really think it's my style. Different strokes for different folks. Plus, I've got a business to run!"

Alastor hummed, twirling his microphone cane around in his hand. The crimson glow of his eyes narrowed at her as he chuckled. "You couldn't possibly mean that wooden box of debauchery you call a club, right?"

"My 'wooden box of debauchery' has more character than any joint in that city," Mimzy grit her teeth together in a smile, barely concealing her frustration.

As another argument began to form, a throat clearing interrupted the flow, capturing Mimzy's attention. A pink glove slowly rose from the couch and Angel Dust pushed himself off the furniture, sitting up with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"If I may~" Angel Dust chimed in. "You saying you, ah, got a bar? I'm always up for checking out new places. Mind if I swing by sometime, tits?"

Mimzy beamed and sent Alastor a smug look, making her way toward Angel Dust. She reached into her chest, pulling out a card with a flourish. "Of course, kitten! Here's all our information. You'll find us in the Vee district. Feel free to swing by anytime. And don't forget to bring a friend!"

Angel Dust took the offered card, a grin forming on his face. "Bring a friend, huh? You got it, toots."

˚୨୧₊♱

The Vee district, designated as the entertainment hub of Pride, was dazzled with bright neon lights and tall towering buildings adorned with blazing billboards. The streets pulsed with life, where every ten steps brought you face-to-face with street performers desperately vying for attention, hoping to catch the eyes of industry scouts. The message was clear – fame was the ticket to success. Performers were everywhere, found in rundown bars, neon nightclubs, and costly theaters catering to the insatiable appetites of the elite.

Mimzy's Lounge, nestled down east on one of the city's worse-off streets was no fancy stage. The building, weathered and worn, seemed to barely hold itself together. The exterior bore the scars of years gone by, with cracked windows, peeling paint, and near-rotting wooden walls. While it may not have been on the standards of the elite, to the poor and downtrodden, it was the best piece of entertainment they could afford.

Inside, the dim lighting of the bar did little to conceal the stains and cracks that adorned the floor and ceiling. Tables and chairs, mismatched, were arranged haphazardly. The air hung heavy with the smell of cheap perfume, wrapping around the audience—a motley crew of lost souls. On the stage, a couple of scantily clad showgirls were performing a dance routine, or at least their movements vaguely resembled one. The quality of the performance didn't seem to matter to the audience, who, hungry for any form of entertainment, welcomed the spectacle with open arms.

Seated discreetly in the back booths, Angel and Cherri had drawn their curtains tight, creating a cocoon of privacy amid the bustling buzz and thumping music in the club.

"…And check this out – Alastor is hitched," Angel Dust spat out the last word as if it were poison. His face caught the warm, bright lights spilling into their booth, slipping through the small gap in the middle of the curtains. He sipped from his drink, a glint in his eyes. "And the owner here's got some serious dirt on his missus or somethin' like that."

"That why you dragged me to this hellhole? Knew it," Cherri snorted, taking a sip of her cocktail, the sweet and tangy flavors doing little to mask the less-than-pleasant ambiance. "Couldn't believe you'd even want to step into a place like this."

"You know I can't resist a bit of gossip, and where else can you find more gossip than in a joint run by a gal who's got the goods on Alastor himself?" Angel grinned, his golden tooth flashing as he reclined in his torn red chair. "Hell. I bet anyone else would do what I'm doin'. I mean, who wouldn't be tearin' these walls down just to catch a glimpse of the Radio Demon's wife?"

Cherri Bomb let out a throaty chuckle. "Well, you're bloody right there."

A sudden blast of music echoed through the air, prompting Angel Dust to scramble out of his seat and poke his head out from behind the curtain. The previous performers stepped off the stage, making way for the upcoming act. He caught sight of a familiar pudgy figure sauntering onto the stage and hastily turned his head back to the booth, meeting Cherri's amused face. "It's startin'!"

“Welcome, all you devils and darlings, to the Dollhouse Lounge!” Mimzy's voice boomed, and the lights gracefully dimmed to focus on her. The hum of conversation dwindled, the audience's attention now on the stage. “It's the moment you've all been waiting for! The last act of the night… Dolly, the living doll!"

With Mimzy's spirited introduction, the claps and cheers crackled in the air. In an instant, the lights plunged into darkness, leaving Angel to flit his gaze across the smoke-hazed stage, hungry for a glimpse of what was to come. Suddenly, a surge of stage lights sliced through the lingering smoke, akin to a celestial burst, revealing your silhouette with a large signage that spelled out your name in bold, red letters.

Wearing a lovely smile, you spread your arms wide, catching everyone's attention as you sang the first note, voice sultry and dripping sweet like honey. "The name on everybody's lips is gonna be Dolly."

"That's his wife?" Cherri gawked behind Angel, her jaw dropping in disbelief. "Are you sure we got the right girl?"

"Hell, I'm just as surprised as you are," Angel shot back, an equally dumfounded look on his face.

"The lady raking in the chips Is gonna be Dolly," your voice echoed, the melody carrying through the lounge as you strolled towards the stage's platform. The rhythmic beat of the music vibrated against the soles of your heels while the spotlight dutifully trailed after you, its gentle glow caressing the curves of your glittery dress, casting glimmers of silver and gold that danced across the dimly lit bar.

"I'm gonna be a celebrity. That means somebody everyone knows," you continued, sauntering around the stage. As you swirled and twirled, your silhouette became a blur of sequins and shimmer. The spotlight then intensified its focus on you, highlighting the glint in your eyes. "They're gonna recognize my eyes. My hair, my teeth, my boobs, my nose."

"Fuck," Angel muttered under his breath. As you moved closer to the end of the platform, he could finally get a good look at you.

Shimmery blue eyeshadow graced your lids, while a dark blush adorned the apples of your cheeks, complementing the red lipstick you had on. Your dress, a dazzling ensemble of sequins, was not only radiant but also provocatively low-cut, teasingly revealing a glimpse of your chest before gracefully dropping to your knees. Dark silk stockings, sensually tracing the contours of your legs, were held by garters. At your feet, bedazzled red Mary Janes sparkled like jewels, catching the light with every step you took.

As Angel thought back to his conversation with Mimzy, he found himself agreeing with her earlier comments. You really were a living, breathing doll.

"From just some dumb canni-bal’s wife. I'm gonna be Dolly," you continued, seamlessly weaving your magic, each lyric a spell that bound the audience. "Who says that murder's not an art?"

With a spin, you twirled around the stage, a ditzy grin on your face, the sequins on your gown catching the light like stars. "And who, in case she doesn't hang, can say she started with a bang! Dolly Heart!"

As the final notes of the song echoed through the venue, the room erupted in applause and cheers. But, the curtain wasn't falling yet. Standing backstage, Mimzy let the moment linger, reveling in the prolonged applause. After all, happy customers always tipped generously.

On cue, bills and coins descended like a storm, hitting the floor with a crisp sound that mixed beautifully with the cheers of the delighted audience. There was so much that the shower of currency formed a makeshift carpet beneath your feet.

Angel Dust, still peeking from behind the curtain, wore a smirk of approval. "Not bad, not bad at all," he whispered to Cherri, who nodded in agreement.

Standing on the stage, bathed in the lingering glow of the spotlight, you held your pose, chest heaving up and down. A demure smile graced your lips as soft, appreciative nods and fluttering eyelashes accompanied each gaze you cast toward the audience. Tonight's turnout was impressive, though not unexpected given your agreement to perform one of your most famous songs after a prolonged hiatus.

"Dolly" was a beloved crowd-pleaser and the one song you hated with a passion.

The spotlight continued to shine relentlessly in your eyes, causing a painful burn in your irises. The deafening applause felt like a relentless assault on your senses as each clap echoed loudly in your ears. From the speakers, the music blasted in waves, the volume rattling your bones. Showbusiness, a constant companion in both your living and afterlife, had become an achingly familiar yet tormenting cycle.

In the corner of your eye, you saw Mimzy step up onto the stage to address the crowd. "Thank you, my lovely devils and darlings! Wasn't Dolly simply darling tonight?" she squealed through the mic.

The crowd erupted in cheers and applause once more, the energy in the room reaching a fever pitch. Mimzy basked in the adoration, her grin widening as she soaked in the success and the money. Oh, the money.

"I know you loved that!" she laughed. She leaned into the microphone, her voice turning into a whisper "Of course, you all do. I wrote it."

"Now, let's give our star her rest. Dolly, my dear, take a bow!" Mimzy's voice rang out, signaling the end of the performance. Relieved, you bowed before making your way towards the curtains as the heavy fabrics began to descend. After blowing a few more kisses to the audience, you slipped backstage, letting the smile fade from your face. As you vanished from view behind the curtain, Angel caught the look on your face.

It was a look he knew all too well.

"She looks perfectly happy without him," Cherri remarked with a casual shrug. "I mean, look at 'er. She's the star of the show. You think she left on purpose?"

Angel furrowed his brows, deep in thought. It didn't make no sense to him.

Why would you willingly perform under Mimzy's control when Alastor, with his power, could easily get you out of here? Contract or no contract, that radio freak could tear Mimzy apart like a hot knife through butter.

The spider's attention shifted towards the audience, and his gaze locked onto Mimzy, who was engrossed in conversation with some VIPs. The sight of her triggered a scowl to etch itself onto his features.

"I don't think so. There's more to it," Angel's eyes narrowed, the wheels in his head turning, "I've seen that look before."

"What look?" Cherri raised an eyebrow.

"That trapped look," Angel said, his gaze following Mimzy as she continued her animated conversation, oblivious to the scrutiny. "Before the curtains dropped, I saw it on her."

"Shit, Angie," Cherri's gaze followed Angel's, and she pursed her lips. "You think she's playing the part or really stuck?"

Angel Dust stood up straight, now opening the curtains wide as his eyes never left Mimzy. "I don't know, but I'm gonna find out."

Both of them took their time, patiently waiting until Mimzy stepped away. Once the blonde demon finally made her way backstage, they discreetly followed her lead, slipping behind the curtains with her.

The busy backstage corridor welcomed them with an assortment of items – costumes, props, and stage decor – scattered in chaotic disarray. Angel's eyes wandered around, and he spotted Mimzy in a far corner, sitting atop worn cardboard boxes. Nudging Cherri, he gestured for both of them to move closer.

"Hey~ How's it going, blondie?" Angel purred, leaning against a nearby prop, his tone dripping with a sickly sweet tone. Mimzy looked up, confused before she recognized him and flashed a wide grin.

"Hey, you! You're that spider fella from the hotel!" She tapped her chin in thought narrowing her eyes at him. "Uhm, Angle Dust was it?"

"It's Angel Dust," he corrected, a twitch of annoyance in his eye.

"Uh-hah, that's nice," Mimzy seemed unfazed, continuing to count her money, her legs swinging back and forth absentmindedly. "You like the show? Oh, who am I kidding, of course, you did!"

Angel Dust crossed his arms with a chuckle. "Yeah, about that. That girl, Dolly. She's quite a number, ain't she?"

"Oh, yeah. She's my little masterpiece," Mimzy smirked. "Met her before she had any of this."

"Let's cut the fuckin' crap," Cherri rolled her eyes, tired of dancing around the conversation. The cyclops leaned down to Mimzy's height, scowling into her face and driving her finger into the blonde's chest. "I'll say it straight. What's the deal with her? You got some strings attached?"

Mimzy paused and glanced up at Cherri with an arched eyebrow before turning to Angel and laughing tensely. "Your friend here sure is forward, Ankle! Oh, sweethearts, Dolly's here because she wants to be."

Angel Dust shot Cherri a glance, a silent conversation passing between them. "Yeah?"

"The girl signed a contract willingly," Mimzy explained with a casual shrug. "She gets what she wants, and I get what I want. It's a fair exchange."

Angel's eyes narrowed, his skepticism evident. "Contract? What's in it for her, then? Why willingly perform in this dump when she could easily be the star anywhere else?"

The blonde sent Angel a glare for his dig at her lounge but still answered him. "Dolly owes me something. A little debt she's paying off with her charming performances. A contract might sound sinister, but it's just showbusiness, furs." Mimzy leaned back, folding her arms, her expression daring the two of them challenge her further.

"Bull. She sold you her soul to dance and sing?" Cherri scoffed, taking the challenge.

"No, no, there was no soul exchange involved," Mimzy rolled her eyes. "Just a contract. But still binding, magical, and all of that stuff."

"Now, can you two get out of my hair?" Mimzy huffed, shooing them away with a dismissive wave. "I've got a lot of things to run here!" She returned to counting her money, clearly eager to be rid of the unwanted attention.

"Let's go, Cherri," Angel said with a look of defeat, pushing himself off the prop he had been leaning on.

Once the two of them finally stepped out of the establishment, the spider groaned to himself, now finding himself with more questions than answers.

˚୨୧₊♱

You strolled behind the weighty curtains, the backstage area buzzing with the rush of staff, the shouts of managers, and the lingering presence of performers idly awaiting their cues. Navigating through the organized chaos, you directed your steps towards your private dressing room—a sanctuary away from the glaring spotlight.

You threw the door open, entering quickly and slamming it shut behind you, the sudden silence a stark contrast to the clamor and racket outside. Flicking a light switch, the dim glow of a single, flickering bulb hanging from the ceiling revealed the room's worn-out glamour. A vanity cluttered with makeup, costumes haphazardly thrown on a worn-out sofa, and a cracked mirror that had seen better days—all were familiar sights.

"I would kill for a glass of whiskey," you murmured to yourself, the weariness of the performance settling in. Rolling your head and groaning as you heard a satisfying crack, you added, "or maybe a whole bottle of it."

Kicking off your heels, you let the cool floor cradle your skin, leaving the discarded shoes in a dusty corner to rest. Seated at the vanity, the chaotic world beyond the backstage curtains ceased to exist. The gentle glow of the vanity lights exposed the weariness in your eyes as you wiped away your mascara and dusted off the remnants of glitter from your skin. While removing your earrings, the shimmer of your wedding ring caught your eye.

A frown tugged at your lips, the subtle ache of longing surfacing.

You missed your husband.

With a sigh, you continued removing your earrings before tossing them onto your vanity. Seeking to ease the edge, you reached for a whiskey bottle on a nearby dresser, grabbing a glass and pouring yourself a drink. The golden liquid glimmered in the subdued light as you took a sip, the warmth of the alcohol coursing through you.

"C̵h̶e̸r̷?̷"̸

A static rumble of a radio, like thunder, jolted you mid-drink, causing the liquid to catch in your throat. Coughing and sputtering for a while, you scrambled to collect yourself before turning behind you. Your gaze landed on the desk table where your radio sat. The crackling static continued, accompanied by a familiar voice and distorted sounds.

Alastor.

Grabbing a cloth to wipe yourself, you rushed to the desk and grabbed the old radio in your hands. The radio was a faded, worn red with yellowed dials, and its antennas were visibly broken, held up together with scraps of tape. Your contract with Mimzy did not allow you to meet with Alastor or his shadows for as long as you were under her, but that didn't mean you couldn't communicate with Alastor in other ways.

With trembling hands, you carefully adjusted the dials, aligning them to the familiar frequency that bridged the gap between you two. Your heart thrummed in your chest, head almost dizzy from anticipation. The distorted voices began to clear, and Alastor's distinctive voice cut through the static, a lifeline in the abyss.

"Cher, my dear, are you there?" Back in his room at the hotel, Alastor spoke through his mic, awaiting your response. He was sitting by the large windows, bathed in the dim glow of the Ring of Pride's lights. The hues painted a lovely ambiance against his skin, highlighting the contours of his sharp features as he reclined against a plush couch.

Heavy silence lingered for a while as you felt your throat closing up. Without realizing it, you began crying, your sobs echoing through Alastor's microphone.

"Yes, Al," you choked out between sobs, your hands gripping the surface of the radio tightly, nails scratching against the peeling paint. "I'm here. I missed you."

Alastor listened to your tearful voice through the crackling static, his shoulders tense as his claws clenched against his microphone handle. Your vulnerable confession hung heavily in the air, and he felt a storm stirring within him. Unsure of what to do with these emotions, he could only sit there and listen to you weep.

From the busiest street in Pentagram City to the darkest alleyways, Alastor's reputation as a bloodthirsty killer was infamous, and he reveled in it. The idea that an overlord like him could entertain genuine care for someone sounded preposterous. Throughout his human days and beyond, Alastor never felt such sentiments.

Decades ago, he only needed himself. However, ever since you entered his life, he became a man possessed.

The moment he first laid eyes on you, you were a vision of beauty with bright eyes, flushed cheeks, and he couldn't deny that he felt an inkling of fondness for you right from the start. But that was all it ever was—nothing more, nothing less.

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, he couldn't help but notice that the glow in your smile was brighter, lovelier. And despite his usual tendency to dismiss such details, Alastor couldn't look away. Not anymore.

You held him captive, like a deer frozen in the blinding glare of oncoming headlights. He was aware the collision was imminent, yet it still caught him off guard; A torrent of emotions crashing into him like a speeding truck, leaving him with twisted limbs and cracking bones, antlers torn from his head, fur matted and bloodied, with his heart exposed, beating vulnerably before you.

In the months that followed, Alastor remembered how foreign the feeling to him was. He didn't want to understand it, refused to, but each attempt to rip those festering emotions out of his chest only left him bleeding.

Looking back, Alastor finds himself incapable of fathoming how life was bearable before you entered it. The mere thought of returning to a time when you weren't present is something he refuses to entertain. The person he used to be, before he stepped into that speakeasy, now feels like a distant stranger, a mere shadow of the man he has become with you in his life.

The static in his thoughts subsided, in tandem with your crying and sobbing dying down. A prolonged pause lingered before Alastor interrupted the silence. "Cher, you know I'd bring you out of that wretched place if you just said the word."

A bitter laugh escaped your lips as you wiped away tears with your trembling fingers. "You tell me that every time we have these calls. Do you not get tired of it?"

"Never," Alastor hummed. The sound of your laughter, even tinged with bitterness, momentarily lifted the heavy burden that his heart carried. "The offer will always be up, darling!"

"You know I can't, Al. Me and her have history together," your voice paused, cracking with emotion. "And I still feel guilty."

Alastor sighed heavily, frustration dancing in his eyes. He always struggled to understand why you felt indebted to Mimzy, why guilt still clung to your decisions like a persistent shadow.

To him, Mimzy deserved the consequences. Despite his constant offers to free you from her grasp, you remained steadfast in your decision to complete your contract

"Very well, dear," Alastor's smooth voice crackled through the radio, weaving a comforting presence into the air as you moved back toward your vanity, taking a seat. "Now, enough of these melancholic talks. Tell me, how was the show tonight?"

"Mimzy had me perform 'Dolly' again," you remarked, a crooked smile playing on your lips. "She's well aware that I despise that song. I mean, really? Have you ever taken a look at the lyrics? It's a bit on the nose, don't you think?"

As your frustrations spilled out, Alastor stood from his seat, staff in hand. Placing it beside his closet, he attentively listened to your words, occasionally responding with chuckles and interjections. He slipped off his monocle, unbuttoned his suit jacket, and then his vest, revealing a well-tailored red undershirt that clung to his lean frame.

"I find the cannibal's wife line rather charming," Alastor smirked, and though he couldn't see it, you rolled your eyes in response.

"Of course you'd enjoy that part," you scoffed, mirroring Alastor's movements on the other side. Shedding the bedazzled dress, you opted for more comfortable attire, draping yourself in a robe.

"What's not to like? It shows the audience that you're my darling wife," Alastor quipped with a smug tone.

"Bushwa. They don't even know it's you. And I don't think anyone thinks highly of some poor fool shackled to a gaudy singer," you snorted. With the radio in tow, you began to pack your belongings into your purse.

"Don't be ridiculous," Alastor's laugh rumbled against the speakers. "My dear, being 'shackled' to you is the most delightful form of imprisonment."

"Such a sap," you scoffed, unable to suppress the smile that spread across your face. Shouldering your purse, you made your way towards the door, ready to leave. However, a sudden memory of a conversation with Mimzy surfaced.

"By the way, did you know Mimzy was planning to have me perform on some talk show?" you shared with Alastor while locking the door to your dressing room. A furrow appeared on your brow as the backstage lights played with shadows, casting a pensive expression on your face. "What was it again… Oh! Yes! Box-2-Nite."

A sudden screech from the radio erupted, its harsh sound reverberating in the hallway. Luckily, no one was around at this hour, and you cringed at the unexpected disturbance. Glaring at the box, you raised your brow. "You scared the living daylights outta me."

Alastor stayed silent for a while, claws digging into the cloth of his coat, ripping the fabric. With a snap of his head to the side, he dropped it to the floor and moved toward his staff, his shadows playing on the intricate patterns of the carpet beneath his feet.

"Do you perhaps mean… Vox-2-Nite?" His voice, usually smooth, carried an edge.

"Is that the name? I thought you hated telev—Oh. Ohhh..." As you ascended to the higher floors of the building, a realization swept over you.

Alastor's relationship with Vox was complicated. It didn't take a genius to see that. If the ceaseless back-and-forths on broadcasts, the turf wars that had casualties matching mass-extinction events, and the hushed gossip circulating among the other performers were anything to go by.

“Small world,” you chuckled, strolling down the hallway that led to the performers' rooms, the echo of your footsteps blending with the distant murmur of conversation. “I’m guessing I shouldn't take her up on the offer?”

"Absolutely not," Alastor practically snarled out, venom dripping from his tongue. The radio in your hand crackled and buffered, a faint golden glow emanating from the dials. "That pompous piece of shit television is nothing but a clout-chasing, mediocre host flitting between this fad and another on his little picture show podcasts."

“I know, love.” With a swift turn of a doorknob, you opened the door to your flat. "I wasn’t… planning… to…”

Your words trailed off, lingering in the air, as you entered the room. Your eyes widened in awe, captivated by the sight of a bouquet of white roses gracefully adorning your bed.

"Alastor," you spoke into the radio, your voice filled with genuine warmth. "Did you send me roses?"

Back in the hotel, Alastor, settled back into his plush couch. The fiery embers of his anger melting away like a fleeting shadow, replaced by the realization that you had discovered his gift.

A soft chuckle came from the radio, "Guilty as charged, cher. "

Your heart fluttered, and you sank onto the bed, dropping the radio on your mattress and taking the bouquet into your hands. The delicate petals felt soft against your fingers as you admired their beauty. White roses, unlike red ones, were so scarce it was difficult to get a hold of.

"Alastor, this is… wonderful," you spoke into the radio, smile so wide your cheeks almost hurt. "Why—How did you even—How did you even manage to find these?"

"Oh, I pulled a few strings," your husband grinned before chuckling, "and a few limbs too."

Your laughter intertwined with his and Alastor listened fondly, finding solace in the melody of your delight.

The day you inked that deal with Mimzy marked the onset of an agonizing pain he had never experienced before. The thought of leaving your sorrowful self under the wretched contract of that avaricious woman had incited a frenzied rage within him, leading to weeks of unbridled slaughters on the streets of hell.

The blood he spilled onto the sidewalks left a stain on the concrete that lasted months.

Fortunately for you and him, the ordeal was nearing its end. Just one more year remained until Alastor could finally reunite with you. After enduring decades of this agony, an additional year seemed like mercy.

"You like it, cher?" Alastor's voice dropped an octave lower, the satisfaction evident in his tone, pleased to bring happiness to your moment.

"Yes," you laugh, cradling the bouquet in your hands. "I like it very much."

˚୨୧₊♱

#calm before the #before the :))#sephiewrites #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #alastor imagine #hazbin imagine #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x you #hazbin x you #hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin hotel vox

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inkskinned · 1 year

Text

"the curtains weren't blue on purpose. why should we care?"

my love! let me ask you this - did you eat breakfast today? this tiny moment in your life. just think about it. did you?

for some of you, the answer is yes and for some of you it is technically and for some of you it is does coffee count. some of you reached for cereal or gmo-free overnight oats or frozen waffles or 3-day-old pizza. sometimes we eat the same thing, every day, for weeks. i get tired of eggs randomly, only to go back to craving them desperately. i'm cuban; i take my coffee like my father showed me, very milky and sweet.

some of us ate in a hurry. some of us hate eating breakfast but if we don't we will get nauseous later. some of us took our meds first or took our meds after. some of us have a kitchen 5 feet wide and sometimes it's the biggest room in the house. some of us are confident there will be food in the pantry and some of us flinch and say well, the paycheck is coming. some of us turn on a podcast while we eat or we scroll our phones or write in our diaries.

some of us are choosing, specifically, not to eat breakfast. some of us are too busy. some of us are pretending we "just forgot," but we are ignoring the warning signs that everything feels too-heavy. some of us are so consumed with anxiety or grief that we can't eat. some of us can't stand up long enough to make our coffee. some of us have no table to sit down and eat.

i cannot tell you what an artist "meant" by their choices. but they did have to make a choice, conscious or otherwise, to give you information. to give you a little bit more light. each of these choices are little stars of data; connecting speckles for you to weave through, drawing a line.

you cannot use a mirror in a dark room. for some of us; we will not care that the curtains are blue, because that will just be a data point and not enough light to see by. for some of us, the blue curtains will be the same as our childhood bedroom. it will make us seasick. for some of us, blue will be the color of frostbite. it might look like a pixel up close; but from a distance, oh! the picture blooms.

i cannot tell you what will stick out for you. what will carry meaning. some of you will read the sentence "i didn't have breakfast today" and say "this means nothing." some of you will read that and say "oh, me neither." some of you will say "this means the character is probably a little grouchy." some of you will say "oh, i wonder if they're okay. why didn't they eat anything?" ... art is a mirror. i am holding hands with you, over space and time, and asking you to feel something with me.

i want you to read my work and find a blue pair of curtains. i want you to read my work and find things in it that i never imagined placing. i have no way of knowing what will resonate with you, that's true. and maybe i just was hungry while i wrote this, and thinking about the eggs in my fridge. but if you found meaning, that meaning is yours. it cannot be erased just because i didn't "intend" it. you created a different world by interpreting my work. it's collaborative! that's beautiful! that's stunning!

just! imagine looking at the night sky and saying - it's stupid to have a favorite constellation or a favorite star. they're just there.

because here's the thing - across centuries and cultures, we look up. we still find meaning in the stars. these beautiful, lovely scattered accidents. are you looking? they call. and we look back and say oh! of course we are!

#this got away from me #but like #u know #reading is a form of creation #and sometimes the choice that the author makes might SEEM random #but it's like. bro that's telling u something.#also hate the vibe where authors/artists mock their audience for finding meaning in something #nahhhh #if u make art u need to be okay with people finding their own reflection in it

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